


Trial By Fire

by sunstarunicorn



Series: It's a Magical Flashpoint [9]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis, Flashpoint (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First Magic-Side Hot Call, Gen, Technology and Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-14 20:53:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10544166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunstarunicorn/pseuds/sunstarunicorn
Summary: In the year since Sam joined the team and Team One earned Auror status, Team One hasn’t had any magical hot calls.  As a new year gets underway, Team One gets its first official, magic-side hot call…in the same mall that started it all!  And a visiting Harry Potter is in the line of fire, caught off-guard by the very same criminal he came to arrest.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story is the ninth in the Magical Flashpoint series. It follows “Between Phoenix Flames”.
> 
> Although all original characters belong to me, I do not own _Flashpoint_ , _Harry Potter_ , _Narnia_ , or _Merlin_. _Harry Potter_ is based off the events of the books, rather than the altered events of the movies.

The wand aimed unerringly at its target, the tip glowing with the force of its wielder’s emotions.

“You ruined _everything_ ,” its wielder snarled at his captive, panting as he evaluated his situation. His captive kept his hands in view, the eyes behind his round spectacles narrowed and watchful.

Outside, the Aurors moved into position, their gray uniforms attracting the attention of several gaping bystanders. One of them carried a long pole with a square attachment in one hand and a large black box in the other.

“Because of _you_ , my life is ruined,” the infuriated wizard inside ranted; sparks flew from his wand.

“You did that to yourself,” his captive retorted, his own expression twisting into fury.

The wizard advanced on his captive, “Say that again,” he growled, wand poking the captive’s chest.

“We’re in position,” one of the Aurors reported. The bystanders gawked, he hadn’t even used his wand to send a Patronus.

Another Auror, one the bystanders couldn’t see, also reported in. “I have the solution.”

“Why couldn’t you leave me _alone!_ ” the wizard screamed at his captive, more sparks flew from the tip of his wand.

Before the captive could answer, one of the Aurors outside called out in a voice loud enough for all inside the store to hear, “For your own safety, please step away from the windows.”

Mere seconds later, glass shattered and fell inwards; the explosion that had caused it making all the wizards inside jump in surprise. A box was flung through the broken window, rattling and thudding as it landed on the wooden floor. A cord stretched from one side of the device and led back out the window. _Riiinngg._ The wizards all jumped again. The ranting wizard crept forward, studying the box. Carefully, reluctantly, he picked up one part of the box, examining it. A cord connected the part he held with the large black case. Noise came from the device he held, making him jump yet again.

He held the device to his ear, the cord on top; across the room, his captive snickered.

“This is Sergeant Gregory Parker with the Auror Strategic Response Unit, with whom am I speaking?”

Gregory Goyle growled, his eyes coming up and meeting his captive’s emerald eyes.


	2. A British Fugitive in Toronto’s Mall

_4 hours earlier_

The man who strode into Madame Locksley’s office was tall, with messy black hair, green eyes, glasses, and a lightning bolt scar on his forehead. The glasses were round, with wire frames, the hair was cut in a crew-cut. He had a slight cleft in his chin and it was clear he hadn’t shaved in a day or two. He needed no introduction, wizards the world over knew his name: Harry James Potter.

“Mr. Potter!” Madame Locksley exclaimed in surprise. “What brings someone like yourself to Toronto?”

“Nothing good, I’m afraid, Madame Locksley,” Potter replied, his gaze sharp as he looked around Locksley’s office. “You’ve a Death Eater loose in Toronto.”

“A Death Eater? You are certain?” Locksley demanded.

“I am,” the veteran British Auror replied. “I’ve been on his trail for the past week; he slipped out of Britain a day ago.”

“You have evidence of this?” Locksley pressed. Death Eaters were supposed to be a thing of the past.

Auror Potter frowned, but drew out a sheaf of parchment, passing it over to Locksley. She read it through once, then twice, frowning ever more deeply the longer she read. Finally she looked up again. “You are certain of this man’s goal?”

“Completely? No,” Potter replied apologetically. “But I can think of no other reason for any Death Eaters to come _here_ , no offense.”

Locksley ignored the slight slur against Toronto, instead she read through the parchment one last time. “We’ve not an instant to loose, Mr. Potter,” Madame Locksley declared, rising from her desk. “I’ll round up my Aurors and you can brief them.”

“Certainly,” Potter agreed.

* * * * *

Auror Wilkins stood near the back of the assembled Aurors, his expression nervous. An actual Death Eater…here in Toronto. It was enough to make a man shudder. Briefly, he wondered when Locksley would call in her ‘secret’ weapon; they would undoubtedly have a great many ‘tech’ world ideas and plans. While the arrogant man still considered wizards to be superior to ‘techies’, he had been forced to concede that _some_ of them were as capable as any wizard. After the day he’d been sent to find out why the young Calvins had used magic in a Muggle area, he’d actually requested to be the official Auror liaison to Team One again; a request his fellow Aurors had mocked him for weeks about. Their loss, for the techies were much easier to get along with once he’d stopped treating them like inferiors.

Auror Potter stepped forward, commanding attention by his very presence; all eyes turned to the living legend. “Two weeks ago, the British Auror Department received information that the Death Eaters were beginning to gather again. If true, it’s the most they’ve done since the War ended back in ’98. Naturally, we began to investigate the most likely suspects, all of those related to the old Death Eater organization. A week ago, I began trailing one of our suspects, investigating all of his activities. We’re not sure if he was tipped off or if coming here was the plan all along, but as of this morning, he’s here in Toronto.”

“What’s he suspected of doing?” an Auror near the front asked.

Potter’s eyes hardened. “We suspect he’s laying the ground work for some type of Death Eater revival. There may even be a connection to a series of incidents a few years ago.”

“Incidents?” Locksley prompted.

“I’m not at liberty to discuss those, I’m afraid,” Potter demurred. “Some of the parties involved are minors; I plan to speak with their guardian while I’m here.”

Wilkins raised his voice to be heard from his spot. “So, who is this Death Eater?”

“Gregory Goyle,” Potter announced, his voice grim. “His father was a Death Eater; we thought Goyle the Younger had gone a different route, others with Death Eater parents did. He barely passed any of his classes in school, relies more on brute force to get things done. Keep in mind, though, the year the school was run by Death Eaters was a year during which he excelled; he’s very skilled with Dark Magic. Since the Death Eaters were controlling the school, none of the students were held responsible for any Dark Magic used that year.”

“So he’s less skilled with magic in general?” Locksley pressed, a gleam in her eye.

“Yes,” Potter agreed, though there was a suspicious expression on his face. “You mustn’t underestimate him, ma’am, he’s very dangerous.”

“Rest assured, Auror Potter, we have no intention of underestimating this criminal,” Locksley soothed. “I believe our best people should be assigned to tracking this man down before anyone is killed. You will have our two elite Auror squads at your disposal, Auror Potter.”

“Two squads?” Potter queried, confusion writ large on his face. Britain, Wilkins mused, likely only had one elite squad.

“Yes, of course,” Locksley rejoined, her expression sly at the displeasure most of the Aurors in the room didn’t bother to hide. “Our elite squad here at headquarters, all of whom you see here, and our Strategic Response Unit, based at the Muggle SRU headquarters.”

Potter’s eyes went wide. “You have Aurors _stationed_ in the Muggle police station?”

“We do,” Locksley confirmed serenely, unperturbed by Auror Potter’s disquiet. “This will be an excellent test run of their gear and equipment; we’ve not had cause to call them in since they achieved Auror status a year ago.”

The raven-haired wizard’s eyes narrowed behind his glasses. “Madame Locksley,” he began, his voice stern, “Are you telling me that you have _Muggles_ on this ‘elite’ squad?”

One of the more displeased Aurors spoke up, the sneer in his voice ringing louder than his words. “All of ‘em.” Potter swung around, pinning the man with his gaze. “All of ‘em are Muggles,” the Auror spat. “One’s a Squib-born.” Wilkins wrinkled his nose, that particular Auror still had a grudge against Auror Wordsworth for ramming him down like an American football linebacker. Wilkins’ private opinion was that his fellow Auror had gotten exactly what he’d deserved for hitting Wordsworth with _Percutio_ in a _training_ session.

Potter sucked in a shocked breath. “You’ve given _Auror_ status to a group of _Muggles_?” he demanded. “Are you insane?”

Locksley’s eyes went hard and cold. “They’ve more than proven themselves to _my_ satisfaction, Auror Potter. Make no mistake, sir, this is _not_ Britain and I will not have you disparaging any of my Aurors.” Her glare transferred to the loudmouth Auror. “I’m sure Auror Wordsworth will be delighted to hear about your remarks today, Auror Simmons.” Simmons flushed bright red at the pointed reminder of his last encounter with Wordsworth.

Wilkins smirked, he himself had been fortunate enough to hear all about it afterwards. Simmons had been foolish enough to mouth off to the taller, broader SRU Auror and Wordsworth had smiled back and calmly lifted Simmons off the ground for a few seconds, just long enough to make his point. Without saying a word, Wordsworth had dropped Simmons and walked away, leaving the flustered and embarrassed loudmouth behind.

Potter’s green eyes narrowed so much, they appeared to be mere slits in his face. “As you wish,” he gritted out. “In that case, I will handle Goyle’s apprehension myself, thank you.”

Locksley turned, surprised by the declaration. “It will be much safer if…”

“I’ll handle it myself, Madame,” Potter snapped. “I’ll not have a group of _Muggles_ louse this up.” Without waiting for a reply, he strode out of the room without a backward glance.

Wilkins swallowed hard, his gaze trailing back to Locksley. Locksley’s eyes were angry, her expression almost helpless. Certainly, Potter’s opinion was nothing out of the ordinary, but Wilkins suspected it was an opinion that would come back to haunt Potter before this was all over.

* * * * *

Harry Potter strode through the milling shoppers in Toronto’s largest magical shopping mall, a grimace etched on his face. _Muggles as Aurors, what is she thinking?_ The raven-haired wizard knew all too well how most Muggles viewed the magical world. Resentment, jealousy, even hatred. To actively involve Muggles in magical law enforcement…it was utterly unbelievable.

The Auror turned his attention to his tracking charm, letting his eyes narrow as he surveyed the shop it led to. It looked like pictures he’d seen of shops in the American Old West, with a wooden storefront and porch. Four white posts ran from the front part of the porch upward to a wooden overhang, simple and neat in appearance. A wooden bench sat by one of the building’s two front windows; the windows themselves were an old fashioned four pane affair. The building itself was a light tan color, with a darker mix of gold and tan on the accents. A sign hung in the middle of the porch area, above the door: _Fletchley Real Estate_.

Harry strolled in, glancing around the interior. It was a office of sorts, complete with a waiting area and a variety of magazines for customers to peruse. Along the walls were pictures of various homes and other real estate; the locations for sale, Harry realized. He studied the interior, his gaze resting on each of the other patrons of the small store. To his left a couple exclaimed over a house in the country, their two children entranced by the moving pictures of actual livestock. To his right, a group of wizards just out of school were contemplating purchasing one place for all six of them. The building they were eyeing didn’t look large enough for three, let alone six inhabitants. A store employee approached, his eyes on Harry’s expensive robes, Head of House ring, and dragon-hide boots.

“May I help you, sir?” the employee inquired, bowing low to the Auror.

“No, thank you, just looking,” Harry replied, hoping the employee would leave.

Much to Harry’s displeasure, the employee did not leave; instead he hovered at Harry’s side as the Auror moved farther into the store, searching for Goyle. The Auror opted to ignore the simpering employee’s chatter about the various homes for sale. It was only when Harry reached the rear of the store and spotted a slumped figure at a desk, that he realized what had happened. He whirled, reaching for his wand, only to freeze at the wand aimed at his chest.

The employee smirked, the glamour melting away to reveal Harry’s target. “Gotcha,” Gregory Goyle sneered. He’d hardly changed since his school days, the same sneer on his face, the same brown buzz-cut, even the same Slytherin style robes. Dark gray eyes narrowed at Harry’s lack of panic and the former Slytherin advanced, letting his size, broader and taller than Harry, speak for him. Harry let himself be herded, the last thing he wanted was for all the civilians to be trapped in here with a Death Eater.

But Goyle hardly had the same priority, for he had no sooner snatched Harry’s wand away, then he turned and fired a spell into the air. “No one leaves!” the Death Eater roared. The civilians screamed, panicking and trying to run. A spell shot past all of them, impacting the door; the door slammed shut and locked. Harry took the chance to attack, leaping at the Death Eater. Goyle backhanded the Auror into the wall, snarling. “Let’s have a chat, shall we?” he growled at his captive. “I think I’ll enjoy it more than _you_ will, Potter.”

* * * * *

Madame Locksley closed her eyes at the report from the mall’s security wizards. Part of her had actually thought Potter could pull it off, a solo capture of a dangerous Death Eater. After all, everyone knew Potter’s achievements, the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Defeat-Voldemort.

“Notify the British Embassy,” Locksley ordered Auror Simmons, it was best if she kept Simmons away from the SRU. Once Simmons had left, she turned to her other nearby Auror. “Tell me honestly, Wilkins, what do you think?”

Wilkins shrugged, considering. “We have to let them strut their stuff at some point, Madame, and this is as good a time as any. Their shields and body-armor are as good as we can make them; their raydeos should work, even if the rest of it doesn’t. And from what I can tell, if they have to, they can keep the more sensitive stuff outside of the wards and it’ll work just fine.” He fell silent, but Locksley could tell he wasn’t done. Tentatively, he finally added, “Honestly, Madame?”

“Go ahead,” Locksley encouraged.

“Isn’t a situation like this precisely why we agreed to the original agreement in the first place?”

“True,” Locksley agreed with a sigh. “It won’t be pretty though, not with the Brits involved.” She grimaced and her Auror nodded with understanding.

“There’s something I’ve heard them say though,” Wilkins mused.

“And that is?”

Wilkins offered up a sly smirk. “It’s not about making the shot; it’s about saving lives.”

Locksley smirked right back at her Auror. “Well then,” she observed. “I suppose that’s all the answer we need.” With that, she pulled out a Mu…tech cell phone and dialed a number. “Dispatcher Marlowe? This is Commander Locksley. We have a situation…”


	3. Mall Trip, Redux

“Team One, gear up, gear up,” Kira yelled, hitting the alarm. “Hot call at the Yorkdale shopping mall.”

“What have we got?” Sergeant Greg Parker demanded as he exited the briefing room where he’d been working on the endless paperwork.

“Not sure, sir; Commander Locksley told me she’d brief you on scene,” Kira admitted. Her boss tensed up at the name.

“Eddie,” he threw over his shoulder, the one word carrying a wealth of meaning.

“Copy that, Boss,” Ed Lane replied. He turned toward the workout room, where the rest of Team One had already abandoned their workouts and varied workout equipment. “Move it, guys, and grab the special stuff!” he ordered.

Kira blinked in surprise; the special stuff referred to the experimental gear Team One had sweet-talked out of Commander Holleran before she’d even been transferred in. In the months since she’d joined the SRU, they’d never used any of the equipment. “Sarge?”

“Sorry, Kira,” Sarge apologized, “Not something you’re cleared for.”

She was disappointed, but nodded nonetheless. “Copy that, sir.”

Kira might not have been cleared, but she could, and did, watch as Team One gathered up radios and phones from a locked cabinet above the equipment cage. Their regular radios and phones were left behind as they headed out to the garage, speaking in voices too low for the dispatcher to hear.

* * * * *

“Okay, team, we’ve just gotten our first magic-side hot call since we earned our Auror badges,” Greg announced crisply on the radio as he drove in the lead truck. “No lights, no sirens, let’s keep everything as low-key as we can.”

“Where are we parking, Sarge?” Jules asked.

Eddie stepped into the breach. “Yorkdale mall, so there’s probably an area for local tech-borns to park. I bet Locksley will send Wilkins to guide us in.”

Greg’s cell phone went off and he passed it off to Ed in the passenger seat. Ed answered the call, listening for several seconds. “Copy that,” he replied.

“Eddie?”

Ed gestured ‘hold on a moment’ at his boss. He reached down and clicked the radio. “Okay, team, here’s how the parking is going to work. Madame Locksley’s arranged for a section of the parking garage to be blocked off and a security guard in the know is going to meet us at the east entrance. All the trucks are going to be parked outside of the magical area to keep the computer and the auto-transcriptor safe.”

“So someone’s going to have to stay with the trucks?” Spike queried, sounding rather disappointed.

“Sorry, Spike,” Greg apologized. “Until we can come up with some way to keep the computer from getting fried by magic…”

“Yeah, I know,” Spike admitted. “Just, well, you know.”

The rest of them did know. Magic was, in spite of the difficulties they’d had, still a source of wonder for all of them. Making technology work with magic was turning out to be a lot harder than any of them had thought, but it was an _interesting_ challenge. Staying outside of the magical section of the mall also meant Spike wouldn’t really be able to act as backup for the rest of the team, something none of them liked.

The rest of the ride was mostly quiet, with a few theories about what the hot call was thrown back and forth. When the trucks rolled up to the east entrance, a security guard hopped in the back seat of Greg and Eddie’s truck and directed them to an area that was blocked off due to construction.

“You got your badges?” the security guard asked.

In response, both Greg and Ed pulled out their Auror badges and flipped them open so their passenger could see them.

“Okay, just drive on through,” the security guard instructed them.

Greg blinked, but released the brakes and let the truck roll through the construction signs. There was a faint tingle, but the truck didn’t strike anything as it rolled. Past the signs, there was a cleared area for the trucks to park. He wheeled the truck into one of the spots. “Were those wards?” he inquired, twisting around to look at the security guard.

“Nah, just an illusion,” the guard reassured them. “Locksley briefed me about your equipment; illusions don’t have enough magic to mess with technology.”

The other trucks pulled into the other spots, the Command Truck taking the spot closest to the mall door. The team piled out of the trucks and Spike made a beeline to the Command Truck to check his equipment. “That’s one way to block an area off,” Ed quipped.

“Our badges let us through?” Greg asked the security guard.

“Pretty much, yeah,” the guard replied, offering up a shrug. “Don’t want Muggles sneaking through, ya know?”

The cops traded looks at the word ‘Muggle’, but they were, by now, resigned to the fact that Spike’s ‘techie’ was unlikely to catch on.

“Computer’s just fine,” Spike reported, “same with the auto-transcriptor.”

“Okay, Spike,” Greg acknowledged. “We’ll keep the phones on, so keep an eye on them.”

“Copy,” Spike agreed.

Team One gathered up their usual gear, checked to make sure the more delicate electronics were either turned off or left in the trucks, and trooped after the security guard to the magic-side entrance next to the parking area. Once again, their Auror badges served as their ticket through the wards. Ed was the first through, Greg on his heels. As soon as they passed through the wards, their phones sparked and died on their belts.

“Boss,” Spike called.

Greg groaned, pulling the dead phone off his belt. “Yeah, Spike, we noticed. Phones are dead, team.”

On the other side of the wards, the rest of the team hastily turned their phones off before trekking through. Once through, they all cast disappointed looks at the dead phone Greg held up.

“So much for the flip phones,” Sam sighed.

Wordy shrugged. “It was worth a shot. We’ve still got the radios.”

Greg nodded agreement. “So, a few more bugs to iron out…later. Spike, make a note about the phones and keep setting up for the call.”

“Copy that,” Spike replied.

The six Aurors headed down the path, gawking a bit at the transition between crystal light and the see-through ceiling of the main magical mall. They spied the hot call location at once. A store partway down the path they’d entered was surrounded by Aurors, gawkers, and had an eerie green symbol hovering above it. It was a massive skull, with a snake coming out of the skeletal jaw like a macabre tongue.

Sam hissed at the sight, going very pale. “Sam?” Greg queried, startled by the reaction from the normally confident constable.

“The Dark Mark, boss. That’s the Dark Mark.”

Sam was utterly rattled and it was left to the approaching Madame Locksley to explain. “The Dark Mark, Sergeant Parker, was used by the Death Eaters during both the First and Second Wizarding Wars to terrorize the wizarding world. To see a Dark Mark above your home…it was everyone’s worst fear come to life. And Squibs, Muggleborns, and Muggles were the Death Eaters’ favorite targets.” She signed heavily, running a hand through her hair. “Officially, today is the first time the Mark’s been seen since the end of the Second Wizarding War in 1998.”

“And unofficially?” Greg pressed.

Locksley met his eyes. “Unofficially, it was seen two years ago…above the burning manor of the late Lord and Lady Calvin by their children, Lancelot and Alanna Calvin.”


	4. The Second Wizarding War

“Excuse me?” Ed demanded, speaking for his speechless boss.

Locksley didn’t bother to hide her grimace. She shepherded them to the side, glancing over her shoulder at the surrounded store. “Here’s the thing. British law enforcement prefers to believe that the Death Eaters have been inactive since the end of the war. Today is the first time I’ve seen any member of the British Auror Department acknowledge Death Eater activity of any kind and it’s no coincidence that it coincides with a Death Eater being here, in Toronto.”

“They’ve been denying it?” Sam interrupted, furious.

“In a word? Yes, Auror Braddock, they have been. I’m sure it was quite easy for them to do so two years ago since the only two witnesses were moved out of Britain less than two days after the murders.” She lifted a hand to quell Team One’s instinctive protest. “I’m not blaming any of you; you could hardly influence events that occurred before you even _knew_ about the magical world.”

“Is this information we need for this situation?” Greg asked, clamping down on his reaction to the news that his _nipotes_ were distantly connected to the history behind the hot call.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Madame Locksley admitted. “But better that you have it, Parker, because any sighting of the Dark Mark is going to be all over the magical world by dinnertime. And you have two children whose last sighting of the Mark…”

“…coincided with the deaths of their parents,” Greg finished for her. “All right, then, lay it out for us, Madame Locksley.”

Locksley gathered her thoughts together, thinking hard for several moments. “For now, all you need to know about the First Wizarding War is that it lasted from 1970 to October 31st, 1981. On Halloween of 1981, the leader of the Death Eaters, Lord Voldemort, personally attacked the Potter family in their home in Godric’s Hollow. He murdered Lily and James Potter, then turned his wand on their one-year-old son.” Team One gasped at that tidbit. “No one really knows for sure what happened, but somehow, the Killing Curse was reflected back at Voldemort and destroyed his body.”

“He died?” Wordy asked, brow furrowing at the odd phrasing.

Madame Locksley’s smile was humorless. “That’s the irony, Auror Wordsworth…he didn’t die. There are a few suspicions, but those who know how he survived, well, they aren’t talking, even today. Fourteen years later, in 1995, Voldemort managed to resurrect himself and picked up right where he left off.”

“The Second War,” Sam offered grimly.

“Precisely, Auror Braddock. The Second War lasted from ‘95 to ‘98, ending when Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, killed Voldemort at the Battle of Hogwarts.” Locksley sighed heavily. “For the most part, both Wars were restricted to Britain, but the terror of those days spread outside of Britain, particularly to those parts of the world that used to be British territories and colonies.” She brushed a lock of hair back behind her ear and continued, “During the Second War, the Death Eaters took over the British Ministry of Magic and began to target Muggleborns using the government itself.”

Wordy hissed, remembering the kids telling him about the Wizengamot and the Ministry two years earlier. “Sounds like it hasn’t changed much since then,” he said flatly.

Locksley shook her head, “No, Auror Wordsworth, it has gotten better. Many Muggleborns had to be smuggled out of Britain to keep them alive and they described the conditions in England as being very similar to the concentration camps in what you’d call World War II.”

“That’s worse,” Spike put in over the comm.

“I’m afraid two years ago isn’t the first time the Calvin family has lost members to the Death Eaters either,” Locksley went on. “Percival Calvin and his wife, Alexandria, were murdered shortly after the Ministry of Magic acknowledged Voldemort’s return from the dead.”

Greg frowned, “And they were?”

“The paternal grandparents, as I understand. Victoria Calvin was from the United States.”

Lou whistled, “Multi-national kids there, boss.”

Greg’s own expression was thoughtful; Lou’s remark went unnoticed. “What about Arthur and Victoria? Did they fight?”

“They did,” Locksley confirmed with a brief nod. “I imagine the deaths of Arthur’s parents also led him to seek out potential guardians for his children. As the purebloods of Britain are all inter-related, he needed a blood relative outside of Britain to keep any of the fanatics from getting their hands on the children.”

“So, who exactly _was_ fighting the Death Eaters?” Jules questioned. “I mean, sounds like the government wasn’t; sounds like they were either in denial or taken over.”

“The kids,” Sam replied. “Not your kids, Boss, the kids in Britain. From what I heard, Harry Potter wasn’t even out of school when the war broke out again _or_ when it ended. He was, what, seventeen?” he asked Locksley.

“Seventeen is the age of majority,” Locksley drawled. “But you’re quite correct, it was a war fought by the children and those few adults who were willing to fight against a group of very powerful magical terrorists.” She hesitated, then kept going. “In the years since the end of the war, many of the fanatics have done precisely what they did after the First War. They’ve wriggled their way out of trouble, bribing, blackmailing, and doing whatever is necessary to regain or retain their power. As the Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Calvin, the late Lord Calvin was at the forefront of efforts to keep the fanatics from regaining enough power to start discriminating against Muggleborns, those of mixed heritage, and, well, all the other groups the fanatics enjoy terrorizing.”

“And he was targeted for it,” Ed filled in, voice hard.

“Exactly,” Locksley acknowledged. “The testimony his children offered was dismissed and ignored, the children themselves shuffled off to this side of the ocean practically before the will was read.” She hesitated a moment, thinking through her next statement. “Sergeant Parker, it’s possible today’s events will prompt a second look at the fire two years ago. Auror Potter, prior to today’s… _situation_ …asked me to arrange interviews with both of your charges. He does not, at this point, know that you and your team are, technically speaking, my subordinates.”

“Does he know about us in general?” Lou asked, tilting his head just a little.

“Yes, he knows about my giving, and I quote, ‘Auror status to a group of Muggles.’ Suffice it to say that he was unimpressed. That said, he also informed me that it’s possible our Death Eater came to Toronto with the specific purpose of locating the Calvin children.” At Greg’s wide-eyed look, she quickly added, “He can’t get to them now, of course, we put up Anti-Disapparition wards as soon as we got here.”

Greg huffed a sigh of relief. “So, unless there’s more history…” he trailed off as Locksley shook her head. “What’s going on here?”

Locksley turned, looking down at the store. Without turning back, she spoke. “According to Auror Potter, the Death Eater in question is Gregory Goyle, a contemporary of Potter’s. They went to school together, were in the same year as a matter of fact.” She paused, letting them absorb that, then continued, “Auror Potter insisted upon a solo capture, rather than accepting help from my elite squads.” From the faint grumbles, her Aurors had already figured out why Potter had refused any help. “How Goyle managed to capture Potter is, at the moment, unclear, but it hardly matters at this juncture. We have at least eight civilians in addition to Auror Potter and Mr. Goyle inside the store. We have not been able to determine if Goyle killed anyone prior to our arrival.”

“No deaths since your arrival?” Greg inquired, writing as fast as he could.

“No, none,” Locksley confirmed. She turned sharply, her gaze intent. “You have my authorization to act as you see fit, Sergeant. I will warn you that Auror Potter and the British Embassy will take an extremely dim view of your weapons and methods, much as we ourselves did in the beginning. You may leave their collective tantrums to me; it was Potter’s decision to decline our assistance, the British government’s decision to ignore the problem until it came here, and _we_ ,” she tilted her head down to include Team One in the ‘we’, “we shall act as we see fit with the Death Eater on _our_ soil. Is there anything else I can tell you?”

Lou piped up, “If we can get any records concerning Auror Potter, Mr. Goyle, and anyone else inside the store, that could help us to start profiling and figuring out the best approach to take in negotiating.”

“Priority on any records or other information about Goyle,” Greg agreed and added. He turned to his team, focusing briefly on Sam, “Sam?”

“I’m okay, boss,” Sam replied.

“Okay,” Greg replied, accepting the response at face value. “Let’s keep the peace.”


	5. Auror Strategic Response Unit

In the absence of the Command Truck, Greg and Eddie commandeered a handy table the Aurors had brought in. Wilkins brought over blueprints of the shop in question, giving the techies a slight grin. “Think you could run another copy of this up to our Command Truck?” Ed asked, studying the store layout.

Wilkins jerked in surprise at the request. “I’ll take him up,” Wordy offered. “We need some more stuff out of the trucks anyway.”

“Hold on a moment, Wordy,” Greg requested, still examining the blueprints. He frowned thoughtfully, running through their usual procedures. He keyed the radio, “Okay, team, we know most of our more sensitive electronics aren’t going to be any use here. I’m guessing that includes the thermal scanner.”

“What about the cameras?” Jules asked.

Wilkins cleared his throat, leaning forward. Ed detached his own radio so Spike could hear the Auror. “After, um, the training thing,” Wilkins stammered. He sucked in a breath and steadied his voice. “Madame Locksley managed to get duplicates of most of the equipment you used that day and had the Aurors try it out. Most of it broke, but we had a couple guys who really liked the idea of the cameras. They managed to get some working. It’s not therma like what you used…”

“No, that’s great,” Ed interrupted, his eyes lighting up. “Can we get a look at those?”

“S-Sure,” Wilkins agreed and he hurried off to retrieve the Auror modified cameras.

Lou started writing his own list, a list of available equipment. “Okay, Spike’s got the computer and the auto-transcriptor outside the wards, so we’ve got that,” he mused.

“Cameras from the Aurors,” Wordy put in.

“Anything low-tech,” Sam offered, “like our armor, shields, even rope.”

Ed held up his radio before clipping it back to his belt and earned nods from his teammates. “We did test the throw phone,” he reminded them. “So we got a phone and ears.”

“We could rig a spare radio, set it to a different channel, use that as a backup,” Spike suggested.

Greg huffed a brief sigh, it would have been much easier for them if he’d been able to talk Holleran into more than just the EMP-hardened radios. Or if the flip-phones had survived going through the wards. “Okay,” he called, getting his team back on task, “all great ideas, guys. Just stick with what we need to get everyone out safe for now. If there’s anything we need that we don’t have tech for, see if Wilkins can come up with a magical alternative.”

“You got it, boss,” Ed agreed.

As if on cue, Wilkins reappeared with a bag full of cameras. They were much larger and bulkier than the team was used to, but they’d work. “We, uh, couldn’t get them to send their pictures,” Wilkins admitted. “But, well, maybe that was because the cumputah didn’t work for us.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Lou reassured the silver-haired Auror as he took the bag of cameras. “We’ll start setting up, boss.”

“Okay, Lou, take Jules with you. I’ll send Wordy to you once he’s back with more gear,” Greg cast a look at Wordy; Wordy nodded and tore off with Wilkins on his heels. “Ed, you’re Sierra One; Sam, Sierra Two.”

“Copy,” both men acknowledged before heading off to get set up.

Madame Locksley wandered over to the now alone SRU Sergeant. “You have some ideas?”

“A few,” Greg replied. He focused on Locksley. “What’s your read on this situation? You know more about the background than I do.”

Locksley considered, turning to gaze at the barricaded store as she thought. Greg didn’t hurry her along, just waited. “Auror Potter brought down the Dark Lord, it caused quite a bit of chaos amongst the pureblood fanatics, both Marked and not. Britain as a whole has been content to ignore much of the problem, as I told you, but Potter lost his family and several close friends to the War; he’s not about to stand by as the Death Eaters rise again.”

“So grudges on both sides?” Greg queried.

“Likely so, Sergeant Parker,” Locksley agreed. “Goyle against Potter for bringing the Dark Lord down and Potter against Goyle for being a Death Eater.”

Greg considered his next question carefully. “Can they set each other off?” At Locksley’s confused look, he elaborated, “Can they egg each other on?”

Locksley blinked, getting the gist of Greg’s question. “You mean, can Auror Potter make things worse by antagonizing Goyle?”

“Yes. Or the other way around.”

“Probably,” Locksley admitted, “But I don’t know enough about either of them to really answer that question.”

“All right,” Greg acknowledged as Wordy reappeared, carrying both the throw phone and the explosive pole for the window. “You’ve got containment under control. Spike, how are we with the cameras?”

“They’re not as good as we’re used to, boss, but they’re working. Signal’s not the best either, but I’m getting a picture.”

“Okay, read us the tea leaves, then,” Greg ordered.

“All right. Looks like everybody’s at the back of the store. As best I can tell, we have ten civilians on the floor and two standing. I assume the two standing are Potter and the subject.”

“Probably a good assumption. Can you tell which is which?”

Spike didn’t respond for several seconds. “Think so, Sarge,” he finally replied, sounding distracted. “One of the two standing has a wand pointed at the other one. Looks like he’s yelling, but I don’t have ears.”

“He’s yelling,” Jules put in, “We can hear it, Sarge.”

“What’ve you got, Jules?”

Lou spoke up, replying for Jules. “Most of it sounds like ranting, Sarge. ‘You ruined my life’, ‘Why couldn’t you leave me alone’, stuff like that.”

“Potter’s giving it right back,” Jules added, sounding worried. “We need to do something, fast, or this is going to get a lot worse.”

“Copy that. Eddie, Sam?”

“In position,” Ed replied. There was a moment longer and then, “I have the solution.”

“Still working on it, boss,” Sam called, sounding both relieved and disappointed.

Greg ignored the mixed emotions for the moment. “Copy, Sam, let me know when you find a good spot.” His attention turned to his constables near the subject store. “Okay, team, let’s see if we can get this guy’s attention.”

* * * * *

A group of wizards gawked at the scene outside Yorkdale’s small real estate office. They had been in the mall for various reasons, most of which they’d dropped in favor of staring at the crowd of Aurors and the looming Dark Mark above the store. Movement attracted their attention and they focused in on a group of three Aurors in gray uniforms. The uniforms, to the disgust of the wizards, looked like something Muggle please-men wore, with their patches, boots, and vests. The foremost, largest, Auror carried a large rectangular piece of metal. Behind him, the other male Auror carried a long pole with a square attachment in one hand and a bulky black case in the other. The female Auror was carrying something none of the wizards recognized and her gaze was locked on the windows the three were drawing close to.

When the three were right near the window, the gawping wizards heard one of the Aurors say, “We’re in position.” The wizards traded surprised looks; the Auror hadn’t even sent a Patronus as Aurors usually did. The Auror’s head tilted in a listening pose for a moment, then he nodded and set down the black case to pull out a small cone shaped object. With the large Auror and his rectangle of metal in front, the tan-skinned Auror stepped forward, put the cone to his mouth and shouted, “Gregory Goyle, we’re going to be sending a phone inside. For your own safety, please step away from the windows.”

The watching wizards were utterly shocked as the pole with the square attachment was placed against the window and let off a muffled sound, a sound that was overlaid by the shattering glass in the window. The large black case was hefted and tossed through the now-broken window. It wasn’t until that moment that the wizards realized the Aurors hadn’t used any magic at all. Most of them left, in a huff that _Aurors_ wouldn’t use magic against criminals. Those that stayed were treated to the first open display of technology in the magical world since the Statute of Secrecy’s establishment centuries earlier.

* * * * *

Harry watched Goyle’s wand as the Death Eater ranted and raved in his face, retorting as often as he could. If he could get to his own wand…

The shout from outside made him jump, made Goyle jump, too. Both men looked toward the front of the store and Harry caught a glimpse of a square object pressing against the window. Seconds later, glass shattered and fell inward, the explosion that had caused it making all the wizards inside start back in surprise. A case was flung through the broken window, rattling and thudding as it landed on the wooden floor. A cord stretched from one side of the device and led back out the window. _Riiinngg._ The wizards all jumped again. Goyle crept forward, studying the box. Carefully, reluctantly, he reached down and pulled up a central device, examining it. A cord connected the device he held with the large black case. Noise came from the device he held, making him jump yet again.

Harry’s brows shot up in shock; Goyle was holding a _telephone_. Naturally, Goyle held the telephone upside down as he held it to his ear. Therefore, Harry could hear every word from the Muggle…it _had_ to be a Muggle…on the other end of the device.

“This is Sergeant Gregory Parker with the Auror Strategic Response Unit; with whom am I speaking?”

Goyle growled, not responding. Instead he looked up at Harry. “What is this?” he demanded harshly, fury coating every word.

“It’s a phone,” _dummy_ , Harry replied, making sure his tone implied the answer was so obvious that even an _infant_ should have known the answer.

“It’s Muggle?” Goyle half-snarled, half-asked.

Harry shrugged, his answer unspoken, but clear.

Goyle slammed the phone down in its case; Harry winced, hoping the Muggle had gotten his ear away before the slam. Then the Death Eater picked up the entire case and hit it with a Banishing Charm. “ _Depulso_ **(1)** _!_ ” he roared, sending the black case hurtling out of the window it had come in. As soon as it was clear of the frame, Goyle snarled, “ _Bombarda_ **(2)** _!_ ” The case exploded, fragments and shrapnel going everywhere.

Harry huffed a sigh, wondering, briefly, how the Muggles intended to respond to Goyle’s rejection of their attempt to communicate. Sadly, the entire episode had only served to put Goyle further away from Harry, and thus, he and the wand he’d taken from Harry, out of the Auror’s range.

* * * * *

Lou whistled as the case flew out the window and was promptly smashed to bits by the subject’s furious spell. The shield Wordy held protected the trio of SRU officers from the razor-sharp shrapnel, but the destroyed phone meant they’d have to figure something else out if Sarge still wanted to try and talk the Death Eater down.

“He destroyed the phone, Sarge,” Lou reported grimly. “What now?”

Sarge’s response, while predictable, did not make Team One happy. “I’m coming in, Lou. We’ll have to talk this guy down face-to-face.”

Lou traded looks with Jules and Wordy. “This isn’t going to go well,” Jules predicted softly.

Much as Lou wanted to disagree, he was actually quite sure Jules had just hit the nail on the head. “Oh, boy.”

 

[1] Latin for ‘drive away’

[2] ‘bombard’


	6. New Meets Old

Greg double-checked his vest straps and helmet, making sure both were snug and tight. He knew his team wasn’t happy; he wasn’t particularly happy either. Face-to-face negotiations were fraught with danger for both negotiator and subject. Unfortunately, this subject had destroyed the throw phone, there was no other ready way to communicate, and Parker was determined to at least _try_ negotiation.

“Eddie?” he called.

Ed knew exactly what his boss was asking. “I’ve still got the solution, boss,” he confirmed calmly.

“Keep your eyes open, okay?”

“Copy that.”

Greg maneuvered in close, staying clear of the broken window. Once he’d worked his way in behind Wordy, Lou, and Jules, he tapped Jules’ shoulder. All three turned, looking unhappy with his decision to keep trying to talk. Without waiting for a protest, he handed out orders. “Okay, Wordy, you cover me. Lou, Jules, see if you can get an angle on the rear entrance we saw on the blueprints. If you do get an angle, wait for my signal.”

“Copy,” the trio more or less chorused.

Lou and Jules slipped off to find the back entrance, while Wordy stayed with his boss. “Sarge, you sure about this?” Wordy questioned.

“No, Wordy, I’m not,” Greg admitted. “I do know our only other option is to go lethal.”

Wordy nodded. “Saving lives, huh, Sarge?”

“Yeah, Wordy. That’s what the job’s about,” Greg agreed quietly. “But, believe me, I’m glad we’ve got reinforced body armor and shields.”

“You got it,” Wordy replied, casting his boss a quick grin. “Go?”

“Give Lou and Jules another minute,” Parker decided.

They waited another minute, then headed for the door. Wordy rammed his shield into the door; it groaned, but held. The broad-shouldered Auror rammed again, putting all his weight behind it. “Darn it,” Wordy hissed. “Sarge, this door is jammed or something.”

Parker considered a moment, eying the door. “Sam, you found a spot yet?”

“Sorry, Boss, I haven’t,” Sam replied, sounding uneasy.

He had reason to be, for Parker promptly ordered, “Sam, get the ram and get down here to help Wordy with this door. Bring Wilkins with you.” Greg traded looks with Wordy, they just might need some magic along after all.

* * * * *

Locksley frowned at the parchment Simmons had brought from the British Embassy. The Brits had been willing to turn over Goyle’s records, but naturally, not Potter’s. At least they had a few more details about Goyle and the Second War.

“Anything else?” Simmons asked sullenly.

“No, Auror Simmons; you are dismissed,” Locksley replied, still musing over the information she had.

“Madame Locksley?” a female voice inquired.

Locksley turned toward the speaker. From the accent, she was a Brit, of moderate height, with bushy brown hair, a slim build, and deep brown eyes. The woman’s face was creased in a frown, worry writ across her frown lines and eyes. “Yes?” Locksley questioned.

“I’m Hermione Weasley, Madame Locksley,” the woman introduced herself, extending a hand. As Locksley shook Weasley’s hand, Weasley continued, “I’m here to speak to Harry, where is he?”

Locksley didn’t bother to hide her grimace. Half-turning, she pointed at the nearby store, “He’s in there, Mrs. Weasley. Mr. Goyle has Auror Potter hostage, along with ten civilians. Our Strategic Response Unit is currently attempting to negotiate with Mr. Goyle…” Locksley trailed off as Braddock appeared from behind another building and raced over. “Yes, Auror Braddock?”

“Ma’am, have you seen Auror Wilkins? Wordy says the door is jammed and they want me to bring over the ram and Wilkins.”

“Ram?” Weasley questioned. Both Locksley and Braddock ignored her.

Instead, Locksley turned and sent a Patronus off to retrieve Wilkins. “He’s on his way, Auror Braddock.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Braddock thanked her before veering off to the SRU table and the equipment Wordsworth had brought down earlier.

“He couldn’t send a Patronus himself?” Weasley inquired, a touch of scorn in her voice.

Locksley gave her British guest a scathing glare. “Listen up, Mrs. Weasley, and listen well. We might not be in this situation at all if Auror Potter hadn’t been so determined to do things himself. We’re doing our best to see that _everyone_ , including Mr. Goyle, gets out of that store alive. Now,” Locksley held up the parchmentwork Simmons had retrieved, “do you know more than just what’s in Goyle’s school records? And we couldn’t get any of Auror Potter’s records for our negotiator to see.”

Weasley frowned deeply at Locksley’s question. “I went to school with both, so yes, I know quite a bit more than just what’s in the school records. Although, I can’t see what your negotiator needs with Harry’s school records.”

“Not the records, per se, he needs to know how Auror Potter can affect the situation, for better or for worse,” Locksley explained. “Come along, Mrs. Weasley, we can do far more good in the SRU Command Truck.”

Locksley ignored the startled and bemused look on Weasley’s face as the younger woman followed her out of the magical mall and the pair trekked up the passage to the parking garage. Locksley led the way out and hurried over to the large, boxy Command Truck. She did fumble a bit at the handle, but managed to open up the door with minimal trouble. Inside, Auror Scarlatti turned in his seat to look at the new arrivals.

Without waiting for any greeting or pleasantries, Locksley said, “Auror Scarlatti, this is Mrs. Hermione Weasley, a friend of Auror Potter’s and a former classmate of Mr. Goyle. Perhaps she can provide some additional background to Auror Sergeant Parker.”

Scarlatti’s face lit up, “Great!” He snatched the radio off his belt, adjusting it so his teammates could hear Weasley. “Guys, we’ve got a third party with information about the subject and Auror Potter.”

From the radio, Parker sounded encouraged by the news. “Okay, Spike, let’s hear it then.”

Scarlatti looked up at Weasley, his mobile face a mix of beaming and encouraging. “Mrs. Weasley, what can you tell us about your classmates?”

Weasley looked incredulous at the clearly Muggle equipment, but gamely replied, “Harry’s one of my best friends. He’s very skilled, very capable; I’m sure he can handle Goyle no problem.”

With a sympathetic look, Scarlatti gently informed her, “From the camera view we have, Auror Potter’s lost his wand, Mrs. Weasley. Anything specific you can tell us is going to help us get them out alive.”

The news was clearly unwelcome to Weasley, but, once again, she rallied. “Goyle is a bully, pure and simple. In school, he and Crabbe were goons for Draco Malfoy. Malfoy was hardly ever seen without those two at his back. All three of them excelled the year the Death Eaters ran Hogwarts and Malfoy was involved in the death of Headmaster Dumbledore at the end of our sixth year.”

Locksley frowned, all of that sounded more like surface details, things they could have inferred from the school and legal records. Scarlatti gently prompted for more details about Goyle, asking about Goyle’s friendships, his traits, actions that Hermione might remember. The rest of the story came out with the Auror’s encouragement: Goyle’s attitude in school toward Muggleborns in general and Weasley in particular, the events prior to the Battle of Hogwarts that had resulted in Crabbe’s death, Goyle’s rescue as Crabbe’s Fiendfyre  **(3)** raged out of control, and Goyle’s life since the end of the war, drifting and aimless. To Locksley, it sounded as if Goyle had little to lose and plenty of reasons to hate Auror Potter.

Scarlatti grimaced as Weasley finished. “Any current friends or family?” he queried, without much hope.

“Not that I know of,” Weasley admitted. Her expression turned intent, “What do you intend to do?”

Locksley bristled at the presumption that Weasley would be privy to Toronto law enforcement plans. But before she could voice her outrage, Parker asked his own question. “Mrs. Weasley, do you think Mr. Goyle holds a grudge against you, Auror Potter, and your husband?”

Weasley was caught off guard. “A grudge? For saving his life?”

Scarlatti shook his head, following his boss’ line of thought. “No. For not saving his friend.”

“I-I don’t know,” Weasley admitted. “What does that have to do with today?”

Though Locksley was curious as well, Parker did not elaborate and Scarlatti tuned his radio so that only he could hear and speak with his teammates. That done, Scarlatti nodded to both women before sitting back down at his computer and studying the screens.

“Sarge, whatever you’re going to do, do it fast…subject’s getting more agitated by the minute.”

“What are you seeing?” Weasley demanded loudly.

Scarlatti gave her an annoyed look, but answered. “Subject’s just hit Auror Potter with a _Reducto_.”

 

[3] A cursed fire capable of seeking out living targets and nearly impossible to extinguish


	7. Negotiating for Dummies

Wordy looked over his shoulder, relieved to see Sam and Wilkins creeping up from the side towards himself and Sarge, ram in tow. He and Sarge had fallen back to wait for backup, no sense in banging himself up trying to get the store door open when Sam was coming with the ram. In the meantime, Jules and Lou found an open door in the back, but fell back themselves to wait for Sarge’s signal. The third party was a welcome surprise, more background and information was always a plus in the SRU playbook. As Spike and Sarge tag-teamed the witness, Wordy, Sam, and Wilkins snuck over to the jammed door. Wilkins waved his wand in a diagnostic pattern and scowled at the results.

“It’s sealed, all right,” he hissed, “He’s used _Defigo_ **(4)**.” At the confused looks, he elaborated, “No one but the caster or someone the caster authorizes can open something sealed with this spell. Not even _Alohomora_ **(5)** can open this door, I’m afraid.”

Sam and Wordy traded looks at that. Sam piped up with, “What about ramming it down?”

Wilkins blinked at that, studying the door and then the ram Sam had lugged along. He frowned thoughtfully, examining the ram for several long moments and nodding to himself. “That just might work,” he murmured. Looking up, he added, “If it works, the door’s coming down, so we’re going to have to be ready to move.”

Wordy tilted his head in acknowledgement as Spike’s worried announcement rang out. “Sarge, we might have a way in,” he called. “We’re going to ram the door down.”

Sarge didn’t hesitate, he was moving over to the trio as he spoke, “Okay, Wordy, let’s do it. Eddie, be ready.”

“Copy,” Ed confirmed.

Sarge took the shield Wordy passed him; Wordy and Sam hefted the ram while Wilkins stood behind Sarge and the shield. The duo with the ram positioned themselves so they could drop the ram and dive behind cover if the subject opened fire. “Jules, Lou,” Sarge ordered.

“Ready,” Jules replied.

Sarge nodded once to Wordy and Sam; Wilkins raised his wand and cried, “ _Fistucio_ **(6)**,” as he aimed at the ram. Sam and Wordy swung the ram into the door; it groaned at the hit, but held. The two Aurors drew the ram back and, with no more than a glance at the other, barreled forward at the door, swinging with all their might. The ram impacted with the force of a small bomb, hitting the door so hard it splintered apart as it collapsed inward.

Inside, Goyle whirled toward the door with a snarl of fury. Several spells flew at the quartet; Sarge stepped forward, bracing his shoulder behind the shield; the shield took every spell. Wordy and Sam dropped the ram, the former taking the shield and the latter grabbing his submachine gun. Wilkins stayed in cover, cowering a bit at some of the spells striking the shield.

“Gregory Goyle,” Sarge called, his voice as calm as if he was simply talking face-to-face with the Death Eater, rather than from behind a shield with spells flying at them. “I’m Sergeant Gregory Parker with the Auror Strategic Response Unit.”

“Muggle filth!” Goyle spat.

Sarge didn’t even flinch, his gaze steady and his voice rock-solid. “Let’s talk about what we need to do to get you and these other people out of here safely.”

Goyle sneered at the four Aurors. “Give me safe passage and I’ll let them go, all but Potter.”

_Not gonna happen,_ Wordy thought to himself, but wisely kept his mouth shut.

Sarge, a veteran and born negotiator, opted for, “I’ll pass that request on, but maybe we can talk about what brought you here today.”

From behind Goyle, Potter yelled, “You can’t seriously be considering _negotiating_ with this scum!”

“Shut up!” Goyle screamed, whirling and raising his wand toward Potter. Potter had several cuts on his face and on his coat, where there should have been an Auror badge, there was a hole with scorch marks around it.

Wordy held his breath, praying Goyle would stop and Potter would shut up. Fortunately, Potter did fall silent and Goyle turned back, a cunning look in his eyes.

“Ever since the War, we’ve been persecuted and hunted,” he proclaimed.

Behind the three SRU Aurors, Wilkins scoffed, but quietly enough that Goyle couldn’t hear. Potter’s scoff was loud and scornful. Sarge didn’t react either way, instead he asked, “And you were doing something about that?”

Goyle nodded in agreement. “When the Auror Department started following us again, we decided we couldn’t stay in England anymore.”

“You were going to move here?” Sarge inquired, sounding as if that was a reasonable and logical decision.

Wordy’s eyes narrowed; Potter was positioning himself to lunge at Goyle. Goyle, not noticing Potter’s movement, was answering Sarge’s question. “Just long enough for the investigation to die down again. Then we could live freely; that’s all we want anymore.”

“You could live freely if you weren’t murderous thugs,” Potter snarled.

Sarge intervened, “I hear you; you just want to live without looking over your shoulder all the time.”

“Yeah,” Goyle agreed.

“You know,” Sarge’s voice was quiet, reasonable, “That’s not an unreasonable thing to want. I can understand wanting to live in peace.”

Wordy kept his brows down with an effort, Goyle looked as though no one had ever said such a thing to him before; he was gobsmacked. “You-you think so?” he managed; Sarge had just taken the wind out of his sails.

Sarge nodded as he spoke, “Yeah, I do, Mr. Goyle. I think you’ve got the right to live in peace. But, I got to tell you, taking all these people hostage isn’t really the best way to get your peace and quiet.”

Goyle still looked utterly taken aback, as if no one had ever said any of this to him before. Wordy couldn’t help but feel sorry for a man who’d grown up being told violence was a perfectly acceptable way to get what you wanted. He traded looks with Sam, _this_ was a dangerous, lethal Death Eater? Tentative, Goyle asked, “I should let them go?”

To Wordy, who knew Sarge, Sarge looked surprised by this almost too-swift turn of events. In a near classic father-like twist, Sarge turned the question back on Goyle. “What do _you_ think? I’m not here to force you into anything, Mr. Goyle. I’m here to get everyone, including you, out safely.”

Goyle actually considered this, there was no sign of his initial opinion of Sarge as ‘Muggle filth’. It was almost as if Sarge’s decision to treat Goyle as an intelligent human being with thoughts, feelings, and dreams of his own had won Sarge the man’s respect. Then Goyle looked up at them, more at Sarge than the rest of them, and said quietly, “They can go...all but Potter.”

Sarge gave Goyle a smile at the announcement. “Thank you,” he replied, quiet, but firm. Goyle shifted, bringing his wand up at Potter, but leaving the rest of the civilians a free shot at the door. Sarge tapped Wordy’s shoulder and the quartet maneuvered back out of the door, letting the civilians out.

As they passed, Sam gestured them to Auror Wilkins; Wilkins guided the civilians away from the store and to the perimeter. Wordy glanced over his shoulder long enough to see them go, then returned his attention to the two men remaining in the store.

* * * * *

Greg Parker frowned as he studied the two men in the store. Auror Potter was being far more of a hindrance than Greg would have liked. Nor did it seem as if Auror Potter was interested in really helping get both himself and Goyle out alive, not if that glare he was aiming at Goyle was any indication. _Time,_ Greg decided, _to change tactics._

He nudged Wordy, the other man reading his Sergeant’s silent order perfectly. Wordy moved back into the store, shield still up and ready. Sam was a quiet presence at their back, keeping an eye out for any problems Eddie couldn’t see from his sniper perch.

Goyle’s attention swung briefly to them, then shifted back to Potter; the hate both men had for the other almost smothering the room. Greg stepped into the breach, forcing Goyle’s attention back to himself with a loud, “Let’s talk about the Battle of Hogwarts.”

Two pairs of eyes fastened on the SRU Sergeant, shock and no small amount of horror flaring off the two men. “W-what?” Auror Potter stuttered.

Greg ignored Auror Potter in favor of watching Goyle. The large man looked as if Greg had pulled the rug out from under him. “You lost friends that day, didn’t you, Mr. Goyle?”

Once again, Greg was treated to a look of utter surprise from the Death Eater, but Goyle held his silence.

Undeterred, Greg kept going, “Vincent Crabbe was your friend, wasn’t he? And your father, you lost him after the battle either way, didn’t you?”

Goyle sniffed, surreptitiously rubbing at his eyes. “Vince was a good guy,” he said softly, ignoring Auror Potter’s sneer. “Always thought that last year was what did it, you know? I liked it too, learning the Dark Arts, using the Unforgivables.”

Greg met his eyes, saying calmly, “Gives you a thrill, doesn’t it? And you want to keep doing it, feel that thrill again. Until you’re in so deep, you don’t know which way is up anymore.”

“Yeah,” Goyle agreed. “Just like that. That day, it coulda been me who did that; who cast Fiendfyre and died. Just that Vince shot it off first. They saved me, the Mudblood and the Blood Traitor…”

“And you hated them for it,” Greg finished for Goyle, confident in his conclusions. “They saved you, but not Vincent.”

Auror Potter’s eyes almost bugged out at Greg’s assertion, then went wider when Goyle nodded. “And Pop, he, he went to Azkaban. Our family name was mud, worth less than leprechaun gold **(7)**. Mum and I…we had nothing, no family name, no friends, no nothing.”

“You weren’t here for a temporary hiding place, were you?” Greg asked quietly.

Goyle shook his massive head. “Maybe here we won’t be second-class citizens, hated for what Pop did. But then Potter came after me; I knew he wouldn’t leave us alone.”

“So you turned the tables on him,” Greg concluded.

Auror Potter, who had been quiet, suddenly spoke up, “What about the Calvins?” he demanded loudly.

Greg cast Auror Potter a ‘Shut-Up’ glare. Goyle didn’t notice, his expression confused. “What about them? Was a fire, wasn’t it?”

“As if you weren’t there,” Auror Potter sneered, deliberately antagonizing his former classmate.

Goyle roared, whirling toward Auror Potter, wand coming up. Greg pushed Wordy forward, the latter understanding without words. Wordy charged, hitting Goyle from the side and knocking the man to the ground. Goyle writhed, fighting to get out from under the shield and at Auror Potter. Greg and Sam followed Wordy, dog-piling the subject and wrestling his hands behind his back for the cuffs. Auror Potter made to pounce on Goyle’s wand, but Lou and Jules, charging in from the back at Ed’s order, intercepted him. Jules snatched Goyle’s wand off the floor where it had fallen in the struggle and Lou forced Auror Potter back several steps to give Team One room to work.

Once Goyle was cuffed, Wordy frisked him, locating Auror Potter’s wand in seconds. He drew it out, passing it to Sam. Several other items were pulled out and bagged as possible Portkeys **(8)** or magical weapons. Once Goyle was searched, secured, and had calmed down a bit, Wordy hefted him up off the floor. Sam handed Auror Potter his wand, but casually stayed between the angry Auror and Goyle.

Greg turned to Jules, one brow arching. “Eddie sent you guys in?”

“Yep,” Jules confirmed. She half-turned, pointing to the office behind them. “Got a causality in there, Boss. Not sure what he got hit with, but he’s still out. Probably have to call in the Healers for that.”

Greg swiveled back toward Goyle, leaving his arched brow up. “Mr. Goyle?” he inquired, his voice still just as calm as it had been before things had gone sideways.

There was a moment of silence as Goyle glared at Greg, still indignant over having been _tackled_ like a _Muggle_. Then, reluctantly, he muttered, “Sleeping potion, he’ll be fine in a few hours.”

Greg inclined his head and spoke without turning back to Jules. “Jules, let the Healers know about that, would you? Also, please inform Madame Locksley that everything is under control here.”

“Copy that, Sarge,” Jules acknowledged, but Auror Potter had had enough of being dismissed and ignored.

“What in Merlin’s name were you bloody idiots thinking?” he demanded loudly. “You _negotiate_ with a Death Eater, you bloody well _ruined_ my play to get my wand back with that stupid phone of yours, and now you’re taking this Death Eater _scum_ at his word?”

Greg’s eyes narrowed at the Auror; he’d heard quite enough from the Brit to last a life time and now that everyone was safe…well, he had a thing or two to say. Setting his jaw, Sergeant Parker faced his new opponent squarely.

 

[4] Latin for ‘secure’

[5] West African Sidiki for ‘friendly to thieves’

[6] Latin for ‘ram’

[7] Leprechaun gold is the magical equivalent of Fool’s Gold and even vanishes after a few hours

[8] An object that can transport anyone touching it to a pre-arranged destination


	8. Parker Versus Potter

“Sam?” Boss asked calmly.

Sam snapped to attention at that tone, he’d last heard that icy calm right before his boss had verbally ripped Auror Wilkins to shreds. “Yeah, Boss?”

“Is Mr. Goyle a Death Eater?”

When Potter started to sputter in outrage, Parker gave him a stern glare. Sam, for his part, stepped closer to Goyle and gestured for Wordy to push up the man’s left sleeve. With a shrug, Wordy did so, revealing an arm that looked a bit scraped and dirty, but had no tattoo; no snake, no skull, just an ordinary arm. “No, Sarge,” Sam reported, looking back up, “I’m not seeing the Dark Mark, so Mr. Goyle’s not a Death Eater.”

“Only the Inner Circle ever had Dark Marks,” Potter spat.

Boss was unimpressed. “What proof do you have, Auror Potter, that Mr. Goyle is, in fact, a Death Eater? From where I’m standing, your evidence of his Death Eater status consists of his father, his actions during the final battle, and guilt by association.”

Potter sputtered again, clearly caught off guard by the Boss’ challenge to his assertions. His gaze snapped between Sarge and Goyle, outrage growing with every moment. “You had _no_ right to interfere,” he finally roared. “You’re _Muggles_ , you shouldn’t even _know_ about our world. You don’t know anything about me and you don’t know anything about that Death Eater you’re protecting!”

“I’m not!” Goyle retorted. “Maybe I wanted to be, back then, but I’m not. The Dark Lord was too busy trying to kill you, Potter, to Mark any of us as wanted to be Marked. Suppose I should thank you for that, since it means I don’t have a Mark on top of all my other problems.”

“You heard him,” Potter raged, “He wanted to be a Death Eater!”

The Boss didn’t so much as turn a hair. “People do foolish things, Auror Potter. That doesn’t give you or me the right to judge them for their foolish actions or wishes years later. After all, Mr. Goyle didn’t kill anyone, did he?” Almost against his will, Potter shook his head in the negative. Sarge’s gaze and voice hardened. “However, I can and _will_ judge you for your actions here today. You didn’t accept help tracking Mr. Goyle here down, you deliberately interfered in my negotiation; quite frankly, Auror Potter, you’re fortunate my team was close enough to protect you from the consequences of you shooting your mouth off like the idiot your friend, Mrs. Weasley, portrayed Mr. Goyle as.”

Potter gaped for several long moments, stunned at the verbal rebuke the Boss had delivered. Sam decided privately that Potter had gotten off easy. The chewing-out Boss had given Wilkins had been much worse. Then Potter’s face closed off, his green eyes going harder than emeralds. Without so much as a word, he stalked out of the store, the distinct scent of singed ego wafting after him.

* * * * *

Ed Lane was rather pleased that how the call had gone. A few hiccups, sure; a few more bugs to iron out, but overall, they’d gotten the job done and everyone was walking out alive. A good day’s work for the SRU. Once Goyle was down and cuffed, he’d packed up his rifle and left the rooftop he’d used as a perch. Now, he stood beside Madame Locksley, trading a few remarks with Spike about the call. He smirked at Spike’s suggestion to shield electronics with lead, as if magic was sort of like an x-ray machine or maybe like Superman.

“Good suggestion, Spike, but, even if it works, how do we _use_ the electronics?”

Spike verbally deflated. “I, uh, I hadn’t gotten that far, Ed.”

Ed backed down. “Hey, don’t worry about it, Spike. We’ve got time to figure things out. We’re getting there. Maybe Wilkins can get you together with whoever got the cameras to work.”

Just like that, Spike perked up again. “That would be great, Ed!” he enthused. “Maybe we can get magic and tech to work together instead of against each other.”

Ed nodded. “As good an idea as any,” he threw out. While he didn’t really understand the more technical details, he did know that Spike needed some encouragement after being forced to stay and mind the Command Truck. His gaze fell on the store again and he frowned a little. “Hey, Spike, shouldn’t they be done in there yet?”

“They aren’t out?” Spike questioned, sounding surprised.

“Not yet,” Ed confirmed. He was about to direct his next question toward Greg when a man stalked out of the store, anger and rage rolling off him. The Aurors outside the store scattered, letting the furious wizard through with absolutely no impediment. The tall, raven-haired wizard stormed up to Madame Locksley, ignoring Ed so pointedly that Ed didn’t even have to guess who’d made the wizard mad.

“Where are they?” Potter snapped, glaring at Locksley.

Ed stepped in, both physically and verbally. “Whoa, whoa, let’s slow this down here, sport.”

A wand was pointed at him so swiftly that Ed was forced to restrain his instinct to ram the wizard down and arrest him. He kept his hands where the angry man could see them. “Put that wand down _now_ , Auror Potter,” Locksley ordered, ice-cold in her own anger.

Potter gave her a wordless snarl; she drew her own wand, aiming it southward. Ed cringed at her target. Slowly, Potter’s wand came down.

“Thank you,” Locksley said, her voice icy and clipped. “If you _ever_ point your wand at _any_ of my Aurors again, you won’t like the consequences. Is that understood?”

There was a jerky nod from the still fuming Potter and Locksley lowered her wand, though it remained out and in her hand.

“Now, perhaps you could try that again?” Locksley asked, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Potter gathered himself a moment. “Where are the Calvin children?” he demanded again.

“At school, I imagine,” Locksley replied sarcastically, “It is, after all, the middle of the school day.”

“Funny,” Potter gritted out. “And their guardian?”

Locksley’s smile was serene, smug. “You’ve met him. Actually, I believe you introduced yourself when you shouted at him for _doing his job_. And this is Auror Ed Lane, Auror Sergeant Parker’s Team Leader. If I were you, I’d apologize before Lane informs Parker of your threat just now. Parker is _very_ protective of his…what was the word, Auror Lane?”

Ed shrugged, his voice nonchalant. “ _Nipotes_ , Madame Locksley. It’s Italian for niece or nephew.”

“Ah, yes, that was the word,” Locksley agreed airily, ignoring the contortions that Potter’s face was going through. She turned toward the group that had finally left the store, her smile growing. Goyle was passed off to several other Aurors and Team One joined their Team Leader, Potter, and Madame Locksley. “Very well done, Auror Sergeant, very well indeed,” she praised.

“Thank you,” Greg replied, giving her that gentle, pleased smile he used after things went well. “I admit, we had a few bad moments, but I’m glad we were able to get everyone out alive.”

“Quite,” Locksley agreed. “Auror Wilkins informed me of your team’s innovative solution to dealing with a door sealed with _Defigo_ ; we may have to use that in the future ourselves.”

In a loud, rude tone, Potter interrupted, “You’re Artorius’s cousin?”

Startled, the Boss arched a brow in Potter’s direction. “I assume you’re referring to Arthur Calvin?”

“Yes,” Potter ground out.

“I am,” Greg replied, calm as Potter was still angry. “I did hear that you would want to interview Lance and Alanna, Auror Potter.”

Something in Potter’s eyes made Ed nervous. “Actually, _Sergeant_ ,” Potter said smugly, “I’m here to return young Lancelot and Alanna to England.”

_Oh, heck no,_ Ed thought furiously. Judging from the equally angry looks on the rest of the Team’s faces, he wasn’t the only one to think that. “Excuse me?” Greg whispered, the sudden rage in his eyes actually scaring his Team Leader.

With a flourish, Potter pulled out a sheaf of parchment. “Oh, don’t worry, Sergeant Parker; my wife and I will be delighted to raise Lancelot and Alanna where they should have been raised all along…among their _own_ kind.”

Greg snatched the parchment away from the smug man and scanned it. His eyes shifted up to Potter and, to Ed’s shock, he actually swore. “Like _hell_ are you taking my family away from me!”

 

_~ Ad Alia_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Be Continued... (cue Flashpoint closing music)
> 
> Please, join me this Friday, April 28th, 2017, as I kick off the next installment, "Family By Blood, Family By Choice".


End file.
